Jane Doe
by Madelyne's Orchestra
Summary: Jane Olexson's family is murdered before her eyes by Deatheaters. She and her little brother survive. Her life will never be the same. I am going to try and put some Snape in here, but it's not a romance fic. Warning:Rape, abuse, self mutilation, language


**A/N : So here is my second story ever posted on this site. I do hope you like, and I think I didn't do too bad a job with it. Keep in mind that I don't have a beta and so any grammar issues you may find are all my fault, so forgive me. **

***** DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER OR ANY OTHER CHARACTERS (OTHER THAN JANE AND GABRIEL, AS WELL AS THE PLOT LINE). THE REST BELONGS TO J.K ROWLING *****

**** WARNING : scene of RAPE and ABUSE in this story! ****

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"Jane dear, could you please pass the pepper?" asked my mother, Anne, as she set her fork down. I smiled over at her and grabbed the pepper sitting next to the salad bowl and passed it over.

My name is Jane – Jane Olexson to be specific. I live in London, and have been doing so my whole life. My parents, Anne and Brent Olexson, own a small but functioning two story Victorian style house in the outskirts. Our neighbours are few and far between, the nearer ones living about two miles away from us. Some nights, you can see the lights of their house in stark contrast from the pitch darkness, just a few little squares of orange glow.

Sitting at the table was, as for mentioned, my mother Anne. She had a soft pale face, with grey eyes that I had inherited, and blond hair that fell to her shoulders. Sitting opposite to her was my father, Brent, who had brown eyes and black hair that he had also passed down to me. He had a kind heart despite his burly look. The last person sitting at this table was my brother, Gabriel, who was five years old. He was the opposite of me. Where I had my mother's grey eyes and father's black hair, he had my father's brown eyes and my mother's blond hair. The only thing the both of us had in common was our dimples, which none of our parents possessed.

Both my parents were muggles, which meant that I was a muggle born witch. It came as a shock to both my parents, but we all came to terms with it, especially after my first year at Hogwarts. It was still unknown to my parents and me if Gabriel possessed any magical abilities, but he was still young and could show signs of magic at any time now.

There was, however, something that had developed with Gabriel about two years ago. He had been feeling sick for days, being lethargic and refusing to eat. My parents took him to the doctor, and about a week later, we were informed that my brother had **acute lymphocytic leukemia**. Since then, he has had multiple chemotherapy sessions. It has been hard, and with both my parents working, it was I who had to care for him when I was home for the summer months. Surprisingly, his cancer began to lessen and get better. It was not completely gone yet, but the doctors had high hopes. So did I.

I looked away from my brother as I was putting the dishes away. I turned to the window, feeling the warm summer breeze, and caught sight of something moving as silent as shadows beneath the veil of darkness. With a stab of panic I realized that people were moving, dressed in black, out in the field.

It was known that Deatheaters were targeting muggle born families, many students were talking about it, wondering who would be next, even the Slytherins were worried, but I never thought, ever that my family…

The moment seemed to slow down dramatically. My smile disappeared as I stared out the window and my breath caught in my throat. I then turned to look at my mother and father laughing, unknown to the danger lurking in the dark fields surrounding our unprotected home.

"Mom" I whispered so low, unable to find my breath. The room seemed to be spinning and I couldn't catch my a drop of oxygen. Somehow, my mother heard me, and as she turned her head, still smiling, she looked at me. As soon as her eyes found mine, her smile faded, and I knew she knew what was coming. I dropped the plate I was holding, and it smashed to the floor. My father turned and looked in our direction, my eyes still locked with my mothers', and then our front door was blasted open in the living room.

Then, it all happened so fast. I saw my father running to the front door, his chair clattering to the ground, and heard his tortured scream of pain, and then Gabriel was in my arms, given to me by my mother.

"The closet. Hide Jane, hide." She whispered hastily to me, tears glistening in her eyes as more sounds could be heard from the front room. My mouth was open with shock as I held my brother in my arms. Seeing this, my mother grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me in the direction of the closet, my feet stumbling over nothing. I held onto Gabriel, and kept looking over my shoulder, knowing that at any moment; this room will be flooded with murderers in black robes and masked faces.

"Mom, mom" I whispered, on the verge of tears. "No, please" I said as she shoved me into the closet, Gabriel's arms around my neck, crying. "Protect your brother" was the last thing she said before she closed the closet door, shrouding me in darkness and leaving nothing but a sliver of light a few centimetres wide.

I could feel the coats and such against my back, as well as the shoes and boots next to my feet, the smell of leather and shoe polish engulfing me for a moment. I so desperately wanted to run up to my room and fetch my wand and try to save my parents, but somewhere deep inside me knew that it would be hopeless and would also risk the exposure of my little brother.

"Jane, I'm sca – "said Gabriel but his sentence was cut off by another bloodcurdling scream that belonged to my mother. I squeezed him closer to me and said "Shh Gabe, don't make a sound". I was shaking all over, as was my brother with his warm breathe on my neck, and I could feel my heart beating a million miles per hour.

There I sat with my back against the wall of the wardrobe, in full view of the living room. Holding Gab's head against my shoulder, I looked through the sliver left by the closet, the thin line of light falling on my eye as I peered at the scene that was unfolding before me. What I saw would scar me for the rest of my life.

My mother and father were in the living room, surrounded by dozens of Deatheaters. "You filthy little muggles!" shouted one of them, his blond hair visible through his hood. Looking at my mother, I could have sworn we made eye contact but then my father blocked her from my view. He was holding onto her, trying to protect her from the multiple unwanted intruders in his house.

I watched, on and on, as the Deatheaters put both my parents into body-bind curses, and then attacked them. "Crucio" said one of them pointing his wand at one of my parents. Not a second later, my father's screamed the loudest I ever heard him, and Gabriel shook even more violently against me. I held on tighter to him as I saw the Deatheaters deliver the cruciatus curse over and over again until my parents barely screamed. I was horrified beyond belief, and I was so irate and livid because my parents were entirely defenseless, being muggles.'How can they do this as a sport?' I thought to myself.

They moved around them, their black cloaks swishing about as they each took their turn pointing their wand and having their idea of fun. Every scream, groan and whimper was like a stab into my heart. It felt like someone had ripped my chest open, grabbed at my heart and squeezed it as hard as they possibly could. Tears fell freely now, cascading down my cheeks in little streams just like the blood spilt freely from my parents bodies.

The torturous curses they used on my parents made it so that they had deep gashes spilling with blood in dangerously large quantities. At one point, a Deatheater resolved to physical combat with my limp father, while the others wrestled with my mothers' grey skirt. I put a hand to my mouth the muffle the sob that ached so hard to get out. They were going to rape my mother, whom was barely conscious. My eyes raked over my father, silently praying he would move and try to defend my mother, but he was still being assaulted.

"We must purify the wizard race, so that Purebloods will reign above all" said a Deatheater pacing about the room. "That doesn't mean we can't have some fun" said another with a grunt, as he began his sexual assault on my mother. I could barely look as he groped her, grinding her back and forth.

As I tore my eyes from the scene, I noticed that Gabriel had gone limp in my arms. I shook him, but he had fainted. The situation had climaxed to high for his little soul, and so he has lost consciousness. I fixed his position, so as to evenly distribute his weight and looked back at the scene. The Deatheater that had raped my mother got off her while arranging his robes and another Deatheater got onto her.

The sight of this almost made me gag, but again, I held my shaking hand to my mouth as hard as I could, afraid of what would happen if I made a sound. My breathing was laboured and I had to take deep breaths, concentrating all my strength on being unobtrusive.

As one of the Deatheaters raised their wand at my father, I knew this was it. This was the last blow, the one that would finish him. I began to shake so bad that Gabriel was moving because of it.

"Avada Kedavra" said the biggest of the clan, and a bright green light whooshed from the very tip of his wand and onto my fathers' body. It gave a shudder then remained motionless as the very life that he had mere seconds ago vanished from his body.

That's when it happened. In my desperate attempt to keep every sound from coming out of my mouth, I had let go of Gabriel, who had slipped and knocked his foot against the closet door. It was a small tap, but I knew it wouldn't go unnoticed.

Just as I had suspected, a Deatheater a few feet away turned in the direction of the closet while some others stalled their movements, looking at each other, and even though I knew they couldn't see me, I felt their eyes bore into mine. I silently took Gabriel off the floor and hid him in the darkest corner of the closet, praying to every god who was out there that I would remain hidden. I prayed that my brother and I would maintain this pathetic safety and that no harm would be bestowed upon us. I prayed with all my might. No one answered my prayers.

The doors were thrown open as the Deatheater discovered my little alcove. I shouted and thrashed against him as he grabbed both my forearms trying to pull my out. He laughed at my pitiful attempts and slapped me hard saying "I found another toy gents'!" and threw me into the middle of the floor, over my fathers' dead body.

As I sat there in his ocean of blood, all the air in my lungs fled. I felt his blood seep into my cloths and touch my skin. I lifted my gaze and stared into his unseeing brown eyes, my mouth agape, barely comprehending that this was my father, the one I had laughed with a mere hour ago. I barely had time to register the situation when I saw a man whom I recognised as Greyback from the wanted posters littering Diagon Alley walk back to the closet and drag Gabriel out.

"No! Don't you dare touch him!" I screamed running toward him. I grabbed his arm, trying the pry Gabriel from him, but he slapped me and I fell to the floor, my hands resting on the wood flooring. He looked back down at me and smiled, holding my brother upside down by the leg and said "I do love little children" and then took a dramatic inhale of breath while closing his eyes as an appreciative smile fell on his lips. My eyes widened as the realization of his statement reached me.

Just as I started to get up pain like nothing I have ever felt shot through every fibre and every nerve in my body. I twisted and turned, shouted and screamed for it to stop but it never ceased. It reached my scalp, down to my very last toe, from finger tip to finger tip and to the very core of my bones. I cried and thrashed, my nails carving dents into the wood floor. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the perpetual pain ceased, but the aches in my body remained.

I was panting as I opened my eyes and stared into the masks of about six Deatheaters, each different yet the same, covering half the face, with holes for the eyes. The only one not wearing a mask was Greyback, but he was off in another corner discussing with someone.

I looked back up in time to see one of them leaning down onto me. I tried to fight him off, but that unbearable pain returned the moment I resisted. This time, it didn't last very long, merely a few seconds, so when I opened my eyes, the man was still above me. He was almost completely on top of me now, his face a few inches away from mine.

"Resistance is futile, my sweet" he whispered as one would to a lover, his eyes searching my face and then leaned down to kiss me. I thrashed even more against him, taking no heed of his warning, and more pain stabbed through me as a Deatheater said "Crucio".

"Let us try again shall we?" he asked me, as he leaned down again to press his lips to mine. This time, I did not fight back as much, but I still squirmed as his lips moved against my still ones. I had trouble breathing with his dead weight on my whole body and his lips assaulting my mouth. Soon his hand began to grope the side of my body that he was not covering, and I began to fight back, by instinct.

"This is going to happen whether you like it or not. It is for you to decide if it will be painless or if it will be agonising." He said to me, pulling away to look at my face as he said it.

"You don't tell me what to do" I said to him, spitting in his face. My answer was received with a kick in the ribs by another Deatheater watching the show above. I recoiled from the blow as I cried out, and it pained me to breathe now.

"Seems like you've got a feisty one there Mulciber" said the Deatheater standing to his right. The man above me called Mulciber narrowed his eyes at me as he wiped his face with his sleeve. "I have tried to be nice, so you leave me no other choice" he said as he slapped my face and then straddled my waist. "Give me a hand" he said to the Deatheater.

Fear swept through me as I saw him move down to hold me arms. I felt my belt loosen and then the button of my jeans untie and the zipper pulled down. I thrashed and fought harder than I ever had screaming and crying as they held me. More pain washed through me and my screams raised a few octaves, but still I fought. And yet my desperate attempts were in vain.

I felt more than saw my pants being pulled down because my vision was swimming with tears, and all I saw were black figures unrecognisable all around me. My heart swelled with fear, sorrow and humiliation as my underwear was pulled down and my legs spread.

The Deatheater above me was smiling and laughing, and he let go of one of my arms to squeeze my breast. As soon as my arm was free I was waving it and trying to hit whatever I could.

"Don't let go!" shouted Mulciber as his fingers fumbled down, pushing his fingers into me, pulling them in and out. He looked back up, shocked, and said "Looks like I've got a virgin" as a slow smile crept onto his face. I heard some of his clan mates hoot and whistle as he continued his ministrations. "Not wet are we?" he asked me, looking up.

My breathing was too laboured to answer and my chest heaved as I sobbed on the ground where I lay. "Oh well, a dry fuck it is" he said as he shifted his robes and pulled down his pants. I couldn't see it, but I knew his member was out, and that it was only a matter of time before I was going to suffer the same hell my mother did. I heard him spit, rub himself and then he positioned himself between my legs.

Not bearing to look into his blue eyes, I turned and looked out the window, staring at the thousands of stars scattered in the sky.

I felt him pierce me, first slowly, and then he went in with a thrust. I screamed in pain as my virgin blood was spilt. He lay there on top of me, panting but not moving as I withered under him. I was surprised, despite my pain, that he would even let me get accustom to his size but all I saw in his eyes was lust and I gave him a look of the deepest loathing. He began to pump in and out of me, and my nether region burned in pain as he grunted over me while his warm breath washed over me like poison. His hands roamed my body, creeping underneath my shirt, and pushing my bra aside as he ran his digits over my squeezed hard, and I yelped in pain. His mouth wormed its way back to my own as he ungracefully stuck his tongue down my throat.

I bit his tongue as he did this, causing him to flinch and pull away, groaning. Instead of slapping me as I thought he would, he slid his mouth to my neck and bit down, hard. I cried out it pain as blood began to leak from my neck. He brought his mouth back to my swollen one, and then continued his previous sport. I didn't stop him. I focused all my energy on moving my legs and trying to get away, but all he would do is hold my hips and dig his nails into my skin causing me to arch in pain, and him to moan in ecstasy. Finally, I lay there, trembling, my eyes searching franticly around the room, darting back and forth for an answer. But I soon found out that I could not look into a book like I could at school and find the answer on page three hundred and ninety four. I could not ask my teacher for directions on what to do in a situation like this. All I could do was sit there and bear it. And I did.

He seemed to have finally gotten tired of my constant moving and thrashing, and so he pulled out of me. I almost sighed in relief, thinking he was done, but all he did was turn me onto my stomach and straddle my anus as the Deatheater who had my arms resumed his hold on my hands above my head. The man called Mulciber then put his member back into my wounded entrance and continued his constant barrage of pain. My chest was pressed against the floor in the most uncomfortable manner, and I cried in pain. Mulciber held onto my hips hard, grunting and placed another hand on my back. I cried.

Mulciber stopped suddenly, about two minutes in the assault, and groaned in anger and depravation. He pulled out of me, to my relief, and looked around to his fellow Deatheaters.

"He's calling us" he said as he got up from above me lifting his sleeve and showing the dark mark. "We must leave" he added, and then they all dispersed. "We can't leave them alive can we?" said one of them, as I lay there, shaking and crying, my virginity lost to a murderer.

Looking away from them, I got up slowly and pulled my pants back up as fast as I could. I looked around for my brother and saw him in a corner a few feet from my mother's dead body, still unconscious but not bleeding or hurt. I ran to him and then a Deatheater grabbed me from behind and said "Oh no you don't, you little whore" in my ear. He was grinding himself against my back, biting my ear as he said "I wish I could have had a go at you" as he pulled my hair to bring my face closer to his. He laughed a cold, heartless laugh, then licked the base of my neck to the back of my ear. He then took me and threw me back into the closet that I had been hiding in a while ago. I was utterly shocked as I bumped into the wall of the closet. I turned in the darkness and tried to push open the door, but it simply wouldn't budge.

I began to panic, tears still falling from my eyes as I tried to pry the two doors apart, but neither of them would give. "It's time to burn" I heard one of the cloaked figures whisper on the other side of the door, and they departed the house.

A few moments later, I could hear something that sounded like the crackling of a fire. My heart sped up and my eyes opened wide as I could see a faint orange glow through the crack between the doors. They had set the house on fire. My eyes widened and I backed away from the door as I realized what his comment had meant. With a pang of fear I remembered that Gabriel was on the other side, and was going to die if I didn't do something quickly.

My whole entire body ached; by the curses, the abuse and the rape. I was so tired I could have slept for days, and so sad I could cry a river. But I gathered myself up and let the anger boil through me as I charged the door and tried to break it open. I pushed, shoved, kicked and punched, but the doors never even moved a millimetre. I grunted with the force of the impacts, and cried out when it hurt too much, but I never ceased my barrage of brute force.

Soon, the room began to heat up, and my skin had a sheen of sweat all over. I panted, exhausted as I gazed at the fire that slowly began to creep into the living room. It was a deep orange, with yellow and it glowed, reflecting in my eyes and making them water. I looked around the room and could almost see Gabriel's little foot. Anguish coursed through me, and I kept attacking because giving up would hurt more, much more than the pain I felt physically. I hit the doors again and again, knowing it was all in vain because the doors were locked by magic, and if only I had had my wand, I could have…

"Help! Somebody help us!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. "Help! _PLEASE_! Anybody! Help!" I sobbed, falling to the floor, utterly breathless and out of energy. The adrenaline was wearing thin in my blood stream, and I was in so much pain. The carbon monoxide was slowly creeping into the closet, making itself known. I tried to hold my breath, to blow away the smoke but to no avail. Soon I was breathing it in, and fell unconscious to the sounds of the fire as smoke invaded my lungs.

* * *

I could hear muffled sounds. Sounds that seemed so close, and yet so distant. I was startled awake by a bang, and light flooded my vision as I noticed the silhouette of a person. My vision was blurry and so I could not make out said person. Not a moment later, many silhouettes were coming into perspective, looking down at me. I tried to tell them that I needed help. But I could barely open my mouth. I tried to breathe in, but the air that entered burned my lungs, and I distantly remembered that this must be the repercussion of inhaling the carbon monoxide. I coughed and coughed, and my chest ached in pain, as did the other limbs attached to my body.

I could taste a metallic flavour in my mouth that made me want to gag as the fluid slid down the side of my mouth, but still I tried to speak. 'Help' I wanted to say, but could not manage. 'Save my brother' I thought, as I saw something reaching for me. Some coats were pushed aside, and I lay there exposed by the light flooding in, burning my retinas.

Looking past the person, I noticed other people crowding the room, and I distinctly realized that the fire had been put out, leaving the closet doors and the house a charcoal black for the most part. As I moved my hand, I noticed that this was not the only thing the fire had burned. My right hand was a deep red, but not entirely from blood. I could feel the same stinging that was on my hand, on my neck.

A face blocked my view of the house, and I tried to focus on it, knowing that this was something important. The person came into better focus, and I recognized the long white beard that I had only seen on one person in my whole life.

Dumbledore's lips were moving, but the words that fell upon my ears were muffled and indistinct. Still his lips moved, and I could do nothing but squint at him and stare. He reached a hand toward me, and I instinctively flinched away from it craning my neck away from his touch, moving farther into the closet as my body protested in pain. I could distinctly feel the raw burn marks on the side of my neck, and it throbbed in a smouldering agony.

He moved away, leaving the closet for a moment to speak to someone, and another silhouette entered my line of vision, only this time they crouched down to my level and offered me a hand instead of trying to grab me. I stared at it for a while, then at the man before me. His face I recognized as well, pale as a sheet and framed by chin length black hair.

Professor Snape's lips moved more slowly than Dumbledore's, but still I could not make out my Head of House's words. He reached for my hand, and I did still pulled back, but not as much as before. He grabbed my other hand as well and then proceeded to try and pull me. My arms protested in pain, and I cried out as my rib pulsed in agony, but still he kept pulling me up.

When I had finally reached full height, my vision swam and became even more blurry. I saw the outline of two body bags splotched with blood and this triggered dark spots to dance on the edge of my vision. I turned my body away from that awful sight, letting a soft sob escape my mouth as I faced Professor Snape. I looked dizzily into his face, but something over his shoulder caught my eye. I saw a little body of a boy with blond hair being carried away from me. "Gabri – " his name fell deafly on my lips as I pushed slightly past Snape toward my brother and reached out, but too soon I was engulfed once again by the darkness.

* * *

Was I dead? Am I in heaven? Had my body decayed? I felt so light weight, like I was floating upon a cloud. I took a deep breath and – pain shot through my chest, and I deduced that this could not possibly be heaven. Heaven is painless, and so I must be in hell. Yes, I _must_ be in hell, because it was awfully hot here and come to think of it, it felt like I was sitting on rubble rather than a cloud. How had I deluded myself into thinking I was in heaven? I could never reach that kingdom, not after what I had been through, after what I had put my kin through.

The heat intensified, and I could feel flames licking at my skin, teasing me with their retched pain. I tried to pull away, but I was surrounded and outnumbered. I looked everywhere and all I saw were flames crackling like some mock ridge of laughter berating me. The flames moved in on me, stimulating every nerve ending and immersing them in agony. I screamed and thrashed in pain, having no escape, no safe haven, and no closet to hide in.

I awoke with a start, my eyes flying open and staring into the kind yet anxious face of a rather aged and ripened female nurse. He brown eyes surveyed me as she brushed some hair out of my line of sight. She shushed me and said "You're at St-Mungos hospital, your safe" over and over again, soothing me. I stared at her, my heart rate receding slowly, and I let her words sink in. I was safe. I was at the hospital. I was safe. I was at the – hospital?

"How – "my voice cracked, having not being used for a while and then being abused by the screams I had so screamed in desperation. She reached to a cabinet on the left of my bed and took out a glass containing a clear substance. She turned back to me and brought it to my lips and tilted it. I drank it down gratefully and cleared my throat.

I examined my surroundings before asking her the same question I had been about to enquire. The room had four walls, each stark white in turn. No windows could be seen. It possessed one bed, which I was currently occupying, and that single white cabinet where she had produced the clear concoction. The floors were made of linoleum and were an off white, the only color in the room. My eyes raked over my bed, whose sheets were – believe it or not – white as well. My eyes passed over my body that was sheathed in a white hospital gown as I said "How did I get – " I paused my question. I had been so busy looking at the nurse and my surroundings that I had failed to notice that my hands, both the scorched one and the other were held down by restraints. I shifted my feet and felt them meet barriers of their own.

"Why am I clad in fetters?" I asked her in a low voice, glaring at her. She met my gaze and opened her mouth and said "You were hurting yourself in your sleep dear, we had no other choice but to – " I cut her off and said "There is always an ulterior choice."In a shaking but grave voice. As I said this, Albus Dumbledore himself walked through the door on the left side of my room. I paid him no notice as I directed my response to the nurse; "Only mental patients are allowed to be situated in restraints, and they are to be used as a last resort, and not in situations like these. Furthermore, the patient must be awake while they are in procession, and not in a state of slumber."

She gazed at me sombrely and said "Dear, you are in the mental ward" and raised herself from the bed. My eyes widened at her statement. How could I be in a mental ward? I had not even been awake to prove any signs of instability! The only reason they put me in here was because of what happened…

My eyes welled with tears as I recalled the events that took place in my residence. Pictures of my parents bodies in a sea of horror painted red violated my mind. I shook my head, trying so hard to forget and disregard those silent images screaming to me, but to no avail. I fought in my bed, trying to grab my head and force the images out of my mind. I could feel the burn wounds under my hand as I touched the right side of my neck. As I did this, I heard the nurse approach me and try and quell my panic attack. The scenes of tragedy continually plagued me, my mother being raped, and then the man called Mulciber raping me…

'Mulciber' I thought to myself. I tried to say his name out loud, as I had stopped my violent shaking, and opened my mouth. I looked pleadingly at Dumbledore, my mouth open and trying to form the name I could not say out loud. He looked at me with a look of concern and confusion, oblivious at the inner turmoil I was having. 'Mulciber' I thought, 'Mulciber, Mulciber, Mulciber, MULCIBER!' I screamed in my thoughts, and yet I could barely form his name upon my lips, let alone voice every syllable that would form that good for nothing name. 'M' for Murderer, 'U' for Ultion, 'L' for Landronist, 'C' for Credulity, 'I' for Idolomaniac, 'B' for Bastard, 'E' for Elocationist, 'R' for Rapist. I gazed back at Dumbledore, my eyes searching his face, hoping he had heard the name, but he showed no sign of recognition.

"Miss Olexson, I am very pleased to see you have awoken from your sleep" said Dumbledore to me. I gazed at him in confusion and cocked my head to the side slightly, and asked "How long have I been asleep?".

"A week" answered the nurse quickly. I turned to look at her begrudgingly, and said "Is your name Dumbledore?" spitefulness loud and clear in my voice. I heard Dumbledore shift a the foot of my bed, "Now now, Miss Olexson, there is no need to be rude" he said, gazing at me over his half moon spectacles. I looked back over at him with a level gaze. "What did you all expect? I'm crazy aren't I? I'm just playing the role!" I said to him, all form of politeness gone with my parents in heaven. I gazed quickly back and forth between them with a maniac look, "What? Did you think I, a mental patient, would act nice and polite after waking? Who do you take me for? Hannibal Lecter?" I said to them both, and Dumbledore gave me a look that was a mix between humour, understanding and disapproval. As I turned to the nurse, she gave me a look of utter confusion. I brought my face closer so that her face was about a foot and a half apart from mine, and whispered "In the muggle world, he was psychopathic cannibal" with a mischievous look on my face.

She looked frightful and condescendingly at me, and walked quickly to the door, and said "She's all yours Headmaster Dumbledore" and opened the door and bumped into a figure that barked "Watch were you are going you ridiculous old trout!". I looked at the door closing, and saw it catch before opening again, and Professor Snape walked in, muttering under his breath and looking miserable as ever.

"Albus! What is the meaning of this? You rouse me from my sleep at two in the morning?" growled Professor Snape as his eyes fell on me. He looked taken aback for a moment before stopping next to Dumbledore and said "I see".

Dumbledore gave a humourless chuckle, never taking his eyes off me, making me feel extremely uncomfortable. I lay back down in my bed and kept my gaze on the blank wall opposite the door. "What do you want" I asked them both in a whisper, knowing full well they wanted an explanation.

I heard Dumbledore sigh wearily, and said "I'm afraid we will need an explanation of what took place at your home seven nights ago, Miss Olexson". I shook my head, feeling claustrophobic in these restraints. I blinked back tears, not wanting to cry before two of my Professors, and started to hyperventilate a hint, feeling like the walls were closing in on me as he said "I'm afraid we must know, the Ministry must be informed so that the necessary precautions can take place. Too much time has gone by already". Images of the night flooded my mind, scene after scene after scene. I shook my head again, tears springing in my eyes as the walls grew dangerously closer, and Dumbledore kept talking about something with reference to the Ministry, but I wasn't listening. I wanted these restraints off now. All I could feel were the Deatheaters hands holding me down as Mul – _He_ ran his hands down my hips. I cut him off, almost completely in a fit of hyperventilation, and said "Can someone get these restraints off me god dammit?"

I glanced at both of them, still breathing heavily, trying to wriggle my hands and feet out of their respective bonds. "Yes, of course" said Dumbledore, after I had cut him off. He left the room for a few seconds, leaving me alone with Snape. I vaguely remembered he was the one that had pulled me out of the closet. I was rather embarrassed about that whole event, but if he noticed, he gave no sign, for he eyed me stonily, like he normally would in class. No words were exchanged between us. I knew he thought I was crazy, and he knew I thought he was crazy for thinking it.

Dumbledore returned with the same nurse that had run out of the room. She eyed me wearily, not knowing if she could trust me. I didn't trust her. In fact, I think I completely detested her. I glared at her as she looked at Dumbledore and said "You want me to remove her restraints?". He nodded to her. She looked back at my gaze and flinched. "She is not stable, are you sure you wish to risk – "she was whispering, but the look Snape gave her silenced her and she looked back at me.

She approached the bed and removed the irritatingly itchy white sheet from my body to expose the manacles. Unfortunately, the gown that went past my calves had risen up to my knees during my struggles, and the bruises and scratches I had obtained were visible to all, as well as the burn scars I had obtained once the fire had crept in the closet. I hoped those would go away. I, of course, held the nurse responsible for not having thought about my pride and privacy, so I glared at her the whole time she whispered the spell that would relinquish me from my bonds.

At last, I could move and the feeling of claustrophobia was released from its hold inside of me. I touched my right hand with my left, feeling the burn wounds as I stared at them. I then replaced me gown properly, not glancing at the two men that stood a few feet from the foot of my bed.

Dumbledore resumed his stare on me and questioned me further; "I must ask again, Miss Olexson, for you to inform us what took place at your home" he said, in a soft tone. I shook my head again, not looking at him, all the while the name "Mulciber" continued to pound in my head. He asked me again, and again until at last I shouted "You _know_ what happened!" in a loud voice clear as a bell.

Not a moment later, the nurse I despised came bustling in at the sound of my voice, her wand at the ready. "Oh come off it! I won't kill anyone! At least not _them_" I shouted at her, frustration and anger interwoven in my words. She looked taken aback and mad, but she huffed indignantly and turned on her heel and stalked out, and hopefully would remain there.

I looked back at Dumbledore and Snape, surprised to see a look of mild shock on both their faces. It would have been humorous, in any other situation. But this was the here and now, and it wasn't humorous at all. I replied in a softer voice, "You know what happened, I know for a fact you can deduce what took place. The dark mark in the sky, the burned house, the d-dead bodies, my broth – " I stopped dead, my eyes wide with shock and horror.

I had been thinking about my parents and Mulciber all this time, I hadn't even spared a thought about Gabriel. My brother, who was outside of the closet, who might have burned in the fire, who might have died because I couldn't keep silent in the closet. I was stricken, thinking he was dead, when the memory of seeing a little boy with blond hair being carried away – carried, and not in a body bag – out of the house as I had been pulled out of the closet.

My head snapped up at the both of them. They seemed to have noticed my lapse in thought, and had worried looks; well Dumbledore did, wondering what my thoughts were.

"My brother" I whispered so low I knew they couldn't hear it. "I bed your pardon, Miss Olexson" said Dumbledore, leaning closer to hear my clarification. "My brother" I said louder, glancing at the both of them with a wild look in my eyes. "Where is my brother? Where is he?" I asked the both of them. I looked back and forth between them.

"Your brother is being cared for on another floor of the hospital, he is being treated and will be all right" said Dumbledore with a reserved look. I was already shaking my head mid sentence ready to protest. "He has acute lymphocytic leukemia! You don't understand, it's a deadly disease in the muggle world. It is responsible for thousands of deaths annually" I pleaded with them both. Snape, I realized, knew what I was talking about. He had a muggle upbringing, and would know about the deadly disease quite well. I looked at him, conversing with him through my eyes, wishing he would understand. His obsidian eyes looked at me with mild curiosity and indifference.

I made a split second decision, and leapt from my bed and made a rather feeble dash for the door. Professor Snape had his arms around me as my hand wove around the metal handle. As soon as I felt his hands on me from behind, a flash back of Mulciber grabbing me flashed before my eyes, and soon the door meant nothing to me, but getting away from him did.

I could feel Mulciber's hot breath on my neck and he pounded into me. I could feel his hands on my hips, holding me so tight bruises would form any minute now. I felt his arm wrap around my waist, his hand resting between my stomach and the floor, pulling me closer as I struggled against him, but all he did was grunt and moan with what I imagined was a look of pure delight etched on his face.

I began to shake involuntarily and gasp for breath and I let go of the handle as my vision was clouded with images of Mulciber. Tears welled inside my eyes and my teeth chattered away as though there were Demetors in the room. I turned, his arm maintaining his firm grip around my waist, and looked at him as though he were Mulciber himself. I stared into his eyes, on the verge of crying, and said "P-p-please let-t go of m-me" and gasped for more breath as I saw Dumbledore come up from behind him, curious and concerned.

His arm was off me in a slip second and stepped back, having noticed my extremely unusual behaviour. At that moment, I saw realization dawn on him, and I think he knew part of what had transpired at my home. I despised him for understanding.

Unfortunately for me, the nurse had re-entered the room, and the opening door knocked me forward. Snape put his hands on my shoulders to stop me, but removed them as soon as I was stable. I shivered from the touch, and turned to see the nurse. As she looked at the empty bed and then me, she grabbed me and pulled me toward my permanent resting arrangements. I didn't fight back as she did so, still not over the shock of what had just happened with my Slytherin teacher. I looked back at the two of them as the old hag brought me closer to the bed.

"My brother" was all I said, looking even more pleadingly at Snape as the nurse set me down on the bed. It was the nurse that answered me rather than the two men in the room; "I'm sorry, but you are in no fit state to see the poor lad". I glared at her as she sat me down on the bed. She wasn't going to be in a fit state to do anything if she didn't let go of me and shut her abnormally large mouth.

"It is time for the two of you to leave" she added to Snape and Dumbledore over her shoulder. I heard them murmur about themselves for a moment, but they had not begun their departure yet as I rested on the bed.

Against my internal wish's, she didn't let go of me, and proceeded to lock one of my hands in the magical shackles provided on the bed. I had thought those were only temporary! I opened my eyes disbelievingly and looked back at her. A feeling of dread washed over me, and I knew I was never going to see my brother if this routine persisted any longer. I was about to protest when all three of the remaining shackles wrapped around their respective limbs and held them prisoner. I thrashed against them, hurting myself in the process, and looked at the nurse pleadingly.

"You can't leave me in these! You think I'm crazy? If you carry on like this, I _will_ go crazy!" I told her, fighting against the bonds. She responded as she fixed the itchy white sheet back over me, saying "You will remain in those until I see it fit that they are removed". I gave her a crazed look and out of the corner of my eye, I saw my potions Professor hesitate at the door exiting my room. I looked back at him and said "Professor, please don't let her do this. Please! I must, no; I _need_ to see my brother!" as panic rose in my chest. I thrashed some more before adding "Don't leave" but my pleading fell on deaf ears, for he had already exited the room.

This did not deter me, and I screamed my brother's name, hoping against faith that he could hear me. Tears rolled down my face in large quantities and continued their descent into my hair line. "Gabriel!" I shouted at the top of my lungs. I panted, having used so much energy since my awakening, but I was persistent and very much adamant in my goal, and soon, my voice was raw and my throat muscles ached in strain. "Gabriel! Gabriel! _Gabe_!" I shouted over and over again as the nurse approached me with a needle in hand. She injected it in my thigh, and I could feel a sort of drowsiness over come my senses as I sobbed in my bed, covered by a single sheet, and held down with, what I thought, were the very hands of the devil.

* * *

Three floors down from the mental ward at St-Mungos Hospital, in room 211, a little boy with blond hair and a burned arm no more than six awoke from his slumber at the sound of his name being shouted. It soon stopped, and he quickly reflected that it must have been his imagination as he fell back asleep.

* * *

**A/N: So that is chapter one. I hope you all found some way to enjoy it. Please review this story! (I'm a total hypocrite because I hate to review, but I'm asking you all to do it) sorry! But I really need to know your opinion on this! I didn't get one review for my first story "How to Cut a Rose", and so I posted this one in hopes of getting something out of all of you! I will try and update, but only if I get some reviews!**

**So click the sexy little review button!**

**- MO**


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